


Zero's Conscience

by RickishMorty



Series: Pocket Mortys [5]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, References to Depression, Super Rick Fan Morty - Freeform, Unhealthy Relationships, Zero Rick - Freeform, pocket mortys - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:33:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23841967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RickishMorty/pseuds/RickishMorty
Summary: Zero closed his eyes, sighing deeply. He had decided, of his own free will, to start analysis. He could not complain to anyone else but himself. But sometimes it was so difficult to analyze everything, look inside himself and tell the truth. Especially with that kid. That boy had changed everything.It was easier to be alone.
Relationships: Super Rick Fan Morty/Zero Rick (Pocket Mortys)
Series: Pocket Mortys [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1690252
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Zero's Conscience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yusunaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yusunaby/gifts).



Zero loved nothing. But he didn't really hate anything either. The only feeling that moved his almost motionless Schopenhauer’s pendulum was an annoyance that he denied to nothing and to no one and that arose from everything around him. Life oscillated between pain and boredom, but pleasure and joy were not fleeting intervals for him. They weren't really there. Zero was totally and desolately colorless in his emotions. Luckily, he didn't care.

_So why do you go to the psychologist?_

That question, which his Morty had asked him, was the most annoying of all. It was as if it was scratching behind the back of his neck, digging to understand what he really thought and why he had actually turned to a psychotherapist.

It didn't take therapy, however, to make him understand something obvious: that boy was absolutely, unequivocally, the most annoying and unbearable thing he had ever encountered.

"So he get you out of the monotony of your pendulum a little?"

The psychologist's voice came to move Zero's consciousness, lying on the bed, bored, with the tuft that covered his right eye. Emo Rick, so they called him in the beginning. Well, how can he blame them? He had been asking for it, with that attitude and that look. Fortunately, now "Zero" was the most quoted name, even if those who didn’t know him continued to call him as "The Depressed Rick", "The sexually frustrated Rick" and so on.

"Absolutely no".

Zero finally answered the alien nearby. He hadn't wanted to choose a Rick or Morty as psychologists for obvious reasons, so he had to find a therapist who was at least aware of the multidimensional universe. That was the crux of the problem. While the other Ricks faced it with alcohol, violence, sex and delusions of omnipotence, he was instead struck by a bleak and overwhelming depression.

"But you always repeat that he makes you angry, doesn't he?"

"It makes me terribly nervous."

"Well, this is an emotion, Zero. Whether you want it or not, that boy gets you off the pendulum. "

Zero remained silent, seeing in front of him the smiling face of the most enthusiastic Morty in the world: Super Rick Fan Morty. Long and annoying name just like the one who wore it, mirrored him perfectly. That’s why they had agreed by mutual agreement to call him Morticay. Obviously the boy preferred the long name, but he was too adoring to say no to a Rick. Especially if that Rick was Zero.

"Not the way you mean it."

"No? Okay... let's see what you mean, then. What are the emotions that Morticay arouses to you? "

Zero looked at the ceiling, seeing that face in front of him, which seemed even rounder because of that stupid hat from which he never detached himself. Who could wear a Rick on the head? Or rather, which sane person loved Ricks so much? Assholes, bad, aggressive, opportunists, selfish and self-centered. Who? Of course, the Mortys had a marked tendency towards self-pity and masochism, but at least they realized that the Ricks were perverse sadists.

Morticay no. He seemed to hang from their lips, considering everything they said and did gold. If there was someone who had to go to analysis, it was him. Zero twisted his mouth, realizing what was one of the other emotions that he brought him out.

"I pity him".

"So you feel some empathy towards him, after all."

“I don't know if it can be called empathy. It is often contempt. "

"We have already three emotions."

"Yuhu".

"What I mean is, it's the first time that another human being has been shaking you so much since... well, a long time, isn't it?"

Zero remained silent, his hands clasped together and firmly on his belly. He frowned, looking at the ceiling.

"Keep digging."

Zero closed his eyes, sighing deeply. He had decided, of his own free will, to start analysis. He could not complain to anyone else but himself. But sometimes it was so difficult to analyze everything, look inside himself and tell the truth. Especially with that kid. That boy had changed everything.

It was easier to be alone.

“Positive emotions? Are they present?"

"No".

“You responded too quickly. Think about it a little bit. "

Zero rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and puffing on his tuft which rose slightly from his face.

What was positive about that boy?

"Nothing! He is a serial molester, a stalker and an emotional vampire, always ready to ask, ask, ask, without- "

"Without giving anything?"

Zero was silent. He was many things, but not a liar. Morticay was by no means a person who just took, far from it.

He prepared breakfast every day, always asked him how he was despite always receiving the usual answer, every day he left him a drawing or a note around the house. He listened to everything he had to say, although it was very little and said in a monotonous and expressionless tone of voice; his eyes always shone, though. He paid no attention to Zero's poisonous and acidic insults and words, but rather, he took them as an extra way to talk to him.

Perhaps after all the concept of "taking" was not exactly that.

After all, it's not that Zero had done who knows what for him. He had welcomed him into the house, yes. And every day he wondered the real reason why he did it, without giving himself a real answer.

Because every Rick has a Morty?

Weak as an alibi.

"Sometimes he relaxes me."

"How?"

"I don’t know. Maybe because he takes care of the house. "

“You are pleased because there’s someone who thinks of you, then. Who takes care of you. "

Zero was silent. _You are pleased_ was a phrase that represented him very little. He barely bit the inside of his cheek, reflecting.

"Sometimes I like is when he whistles while cooking ..."

The moment he said that, Zero felt remorse. His stomach twisted as he gritted his teeth. Again, that little boy bothered him.

Or maybe he bothered himself by his own.

Zero realized that the psychologist too had remained silent like him, perhaps to allow him time to metabolize that truth. It was the most important admission he had made to Morticay and the boy didn't even know it.

"Maybe you could let him take care of you."

Zero looked at the white ceiling, starting to see black again, as he had been doing all his life.

As the psychologist closed the session, reminding him of the time and day of the next meeting, Zero was thinking again about the concept of giving and taking with Morticay. Something intimate, which he still could not bring into session.

He kept thinking about it even on the way home, with his hands in his pockets and his hair half covering his face. The expression was the usual, bored and depressed, if it were not for a slight contraction of the forehead, a symbol of the fact that he was thinking.

Give and take.

Zero saw Morticay's face again in front of him, but he was neither smiling nor sad. The boy had red cheeks, a sweaty forehead and was panting over him, as he moved on Zero's body, on his pelvis. He enjoyed, but he also put effort into every movement, divided between the pleasure of the moment and a nervous look towards Zero. He knew that look: it was the expression of awe and unease of those who tried in every way to satisfy him, feeling judged and getting no success, recognition or gratification. Of those who failed.

Morticay always came, every time they had sex, but there was not once he could fully enjoy it. Zero could see in his huge eyes a sense of atavistic guilt and the disappointment of those who know they have failed again. The reason was simple: Zero never came. He couldn't, he didn't care, he didn't have the urge to do it. He was emotionally and physically constipated. But who really paid the consequences was that boy.

Zero gritted his teeth as he opened the front door. What the fuck did he have to do with this? Morticay had been looking for it, he had done everything by himself. It was not his fault that the stalker had embarked on the task of dealing with him.

It wasn't his fault.

"Zero!"

Here he is. Smiling, always with that stupid hat on his head. But did he wash it every now and then?

Zero looked at him, his eyelids half-lowered and an expression of sufficiency. Immediately Morticay jumped on him, hugging him while he stood still and looked at him a little disgusted.

"How are you? You've been away a lot of time! "

Zero released his locked arms from the boy, pushing him away.

"Is never enough".

Zero passed him, going into the living room while that petulant and pestiferous presence followed him. The man sat on the sofa, lowering himself to unfasten his shoes. Immediately, his fingers were replaced by Morticay's.

"I'll do it, Zero!" he smiled at him with a toothy tooth, starting to unfasten them, bent over his legs in front of him.

Zero pursed his lips, before giving him a little push and making him lose his balance, making him fall backwards.

"You have nothing else to do?"

Morticay looked at him with wide eyes, thinking about it for a moment. Then he shook his head, still smiling: "No!"

"Well, find it."

Zero gave up taking off his shoes, slamming his feet on the coffee table in front of him and bracing himself on the sofa with a disgruntled expression. He was not even free to undress without that brat on him. He turned on the TV only to cover his voice, without really being interested in any of the infinite channels of interdimensional TV.

He could still feel the boy's gaze on him, afraid of having said or done something wrong. Morticay sat next to him on the sofa, clutching his legs against his chest and refraining from looking at him. Zero knew him, he knew him like his pockets: he knew he was resisting to stare at him insistently to start talking again.

It was impossible to relax or focus on anything else, or even just get depressed with that look on you. It was full of expectation, concern, ...

Zero jumped up, leaving the room to go to his room. He was fed up with all those... feelings. They were unbearable, unwanted and unsolicited. Just like Morticay.

"Z-Zero..."

Morticay snapped behind him, reaching out to stop him and touching his shirt for a second too long. Zero turned suddenly, brushing his hand away.

"Don't fucking follow me everywhere!"

Morticay paralyzed himself in the corridor before Zero turned again, closing himself in the room and slamming the door violently. He leaned against it, his heart beating fast. It was almost tachycardia for him. He was not used to any of those reactions so different from his usual immobility.

Zero sighed deeply, before going to sit on the bed. It had been redone perfectly, as always. It smelled clean, of caring. Of him.

He, who was surely sitting in the corridor, with his back against the door and a sad but confident expression on his face. He, who was waiting for him, always.

Zero put a hand on his face, rubbing his eyes, tired.

Yes, it was much easier to be alone.

A whistle reached him, leading him to open his eyes.

Yes, Morticay was right behind the door. The sound came from there, as if the boy was thinking to himself and in the meantime whistling a tune to calm down.

_"Sometimes I like is when he whistles while cooking ..."_

That song accompanied those minutes of silence, in which both were at a breath from each other, unable to approach.

_You are unable, not him._

Yes, it was true.

_"Maybe you could let him take care of you."_

Leave control. It was difficult for any Ricks and Zero was no exception despite the strong differences he had with all of them.

Sometimes, though, he was better than them.

The man opened the door, finding Morticay sitting on the ground in front of his room, as expected. The boy cleared his throat and when he got to his feet, Zero felt his stomach twist noticing his red eyes.

The boy didn’t dare enter the room, however, as if waiting for a nod, a permit or a refusal. After all, Zero could have opened the door just to get out and leave.

They looked at each other for a long moment, one of their moments in which they studied each other and Zero apologized and Morticay reminded him that he loved him, no matter what had happened.

Give and take.

He never understood who was the one that gave or took more in that absurd relationship.

Zero closed the door as Morticay came in and touched his hand.

Zero didn’t withdraw it. He knew the boy needed contact. Only a blind man wouldn’t have noticed it. That boy would give blood for a hug. For a look.

Morticay climbed on the bed in silence; when Zero got angry he often fell silent, aware that his voice annoyed him. Zero had repeated it to him so many times, it was impossible to forget it. He knew that anything about him bothered Zero.

Zero looked at Morticay, noticing how he was waiting for him, before going towards him in silence. He sat on the edge of the bed, turning his back, resting his elbows on his own thighs. He looked at the ground, with the psychologist's voice rumbling in his head, ruthless.

_“Whether you want it or not, that boy gets you off the pendulum. "_

He felt the other's body behind him, which settled better on the mattress, removing his lab coat from his shoulders. Zero let him do it, with no other reactions.

The other's small hands went to his shoulders, in what Zero knew wanted to be a hug, but which turned into a massage to relax him. The fingers pressed on his shoulders with delicacy, attention, but also with fear.

In that instant Zero realized one thing.

He noticed Morticay. He looked at him. He was watching him. He paid attention to the nuances of his attitudes, his looks and gestures. He noticed immediately if something was different and often guessed why, or he reasoned until he found it.

...

Why?

Why, if he didn't care about anything in the universe?

Why, if nothing made sense and nobody was important?

Why, if the absence of feelings was all he had now?

"I see you".

That phrase came out before he could block it.

He could hear Morticay holding his breath and stopping, displaced.

Zero bit his lips, instantly regretting what he had said. He had lowered his guard and Morticay would stick to those three words for hours, days, asking him constantly what he meant, wanting more and more. Like the junkies who had a small dose and couldn't stop. He would insist on angering him again, until ...

Zero widened his eyes when he felt that light and warm body that was leaning against him, bringing his arms around his neck, in an embrace that was not tight. It wanted to be, but it couldn't. He just wrapped Zero, without pressing him.

Zero would have liked to do something, tell him more, reciprocate in some way.

Give and take.

The truth is that Zero didn't give him anything. He was not capable and perhaps never had been. Maybe he was the emotional vampire, the one who just took without giving anything in return.

And he was just a Morty who got the wrong Rick.

Zero felt his breath on him, his heart beating excited, happy, for having him so close.

Zero turned in his embrace and the moment he looked him in the eyes he knew he needed to take more from that boy.

Morticay didn’t need to tell him anything, nor to reciprocate that admission: it was as clear as the sunlight that he saw Zero. He was the only thing he saw and observed in every instant.

They had been more silent than speaking since they met. But by now they knew their silences well and they said more things than with a thousand speeches.

Morticay moved his eyes in his, with the same awe he always had to say or do the wrong thing. Zero prevented him from being himself, expressing himself and behaving as he wanted. That was the biggest sin he committed on that boy.

He was ruining him.

Zero kissed him suddenly, as if he needed air, holding his face with one hand. Morticay shuddered, refraining from reciprocating with all the ardor that kiss had. By adapting to Zero, again.

The man changed the intensity of the kiss, bringing it back to his calm and restrained waters. He slipped one hand under his shirt, while the other hand went to remove that stupid, adorable hat from his head. If it weren't for the adoring expression Morticay had, he would have looked like any other Morty.

Zero twisted his mouth, looking at him, before removing his shirt and getting on the bed better with him. Another thing Morticay modulated with him on was sex: Zero's favorite position was where the boy was above him, where the man could passively receive someone else's efforts without applying himself particularly. Again, the was the one who take.

He knew, however, that Morticay's favorite position was another, he had once told him.

_"I like it when I'm under you because I can hug you better."_

Stupid kid.

Morticay rose, ready to stand on Zero, amazed at how the man overturned the positions for once, leaving him lying under. The boy looked at him frowning, without understanding, even more uncomfortable than usual.

Zero sighed before taking off his shirt. His desire, already precarious, was severely tested by guilt and that look didn’t help.

"D-don't look at me like that, Morticay..."

Morticay let his gaze go to Zero's chest and arms, adoring. It was as if every time he didn't notice the horrible scars that had been part of the man for a lifetime. He was full of it, all over his body, in a web of signs that he had inflicted on his own.

Alone.

Zero swallowed, with guilt returning as Morticay squeezed him, running his hands over his back, in a caress that couldn’t relax him. Those fingers traced the path of the scars on the back, the only ones that hadn't been done by him.

Zero suddenly remembered that evening; he had never been so drunk, not even when he was young. He couldn’t cut himself, he had no more space, he had no strength. He put the razor blade in Morticay's trembling hands, who was crying, forcing the boy to cut him on his back, over and over again. He remembered how the boy stained with blood collapsed, exhausted, covering his face with his hands as he tried to speak between sobs, suffocated.

_"P-please, Zero ... please don't make me do it again."_

...

He was ruining him.

Zero didn’t return the hug even this time, remaining motionless, with a sudden urge to vomit. Morticay raised his face, to spy on his expression, as he fastened his hands behind his neck.

Zero clenched his teeth, with the divided desire to go and stay. To give and take.

For the first time he hoped Morticay would take control. That he decided, that he did everything.

_He always does everything._

Zero felt that he was kissing him on the cheek, slowly, while those fingers caressed his neck and hair, in a caress that just wanted to relax him. And slowly manage to do it.

"It's all right, Z-Zero ..."

That soft and sweet voice whispered in his ear, making him close his eyes, lowering his guard. Small kisses covered him all over his face, while he remained motionless, being cured.

Morticay was his Xanax. His Sertraline, his Fluvoxamine, his Fluoxetine.

He was the only one able to inspire emotions and, at the same time, help him manage them while Zero trying to reject them.

Zero continued to remain with his eyes closed, with his hands resting on the bed on the sides of the small body that was loving him, healing him from his monsters, from the anxiety that ate him alive.

Zero reopened his eyes, finding Morticay smiling at him, serene, finally not uncomfortable and not in awe, being able to do what he did best: be present, with all its pros and cons.

The boy kissed him, a sweet kiss that left him his times, his spaces and that Morticay was surprised to feel reciprocated.

Zero squeezed him softly, in an embrace that again seemed to be looking for air.

They kissed for a long time, for what seemed like hours, taking and giving to each other all night, until the following morning.

That night, however, Zero came too, along with Morticay.

The pendulum may have stopped for a moment, but the emotions were not the same as always.

**Author's Note:**

> This story put me in a lot of trouble. I don't know the characters very well, although someone have made me appreciate them a lot in recent times.  
> In addition, the introspectiveness of this fanfiction goes more on the fluff than on the angst, with which I am generally more comfortable: p  
> I give this story to Yusunaby, hoping to have caught Zero and SRFM who you loves so much <3


End file.
